If CSI Unit One Could Talk
by Lieutenant Caine
Summary: Oh the stories... A glimpse of Horatio from the Hummer's POV.


**If CSI-Unit One Could Talk**

We've been through so much together. It would be impossible for me to tell everything I know about the man who has become part of me. I mean really, people see me and they automatically think of him. Him. Lieutenant Horatio Caine of the Miami-Dade Police Department. In the minds of so many Miamians we are inseparable it seems. Horatio…the Hummer. The Hummer…Horatio. As intertwined as life and death. And let me tell you many times I've been the only thing between him and death. But I digress. Let me start at the beginning.

I remember the first time I saw the man who was to become my driver. He was standing on the steps of the MDPD headquarters. The Miami breeze ruffled his hair and tossed a lock of it down over his forehead, a fact he calmly ignored. The sun glinted like fire from his hair that was only slightly less fiery then the sun itself. His eyes were covered with what I soon learned were his trademark sunglasses. His hands were planted on his hips, the right one resting lightly on the butt of his matte black, SIG Sauer 9mil, and the left one barely touching the gleaming MDPD badge clipped to his belt. It was a stunning sight and I felt a shiver run through my chassis. He was slender, well toned, and moved with a grace that made the others around him look like lumbering oxen. Somehow I just knew he would treat me right. If only that man were to be mine, I knew I would be in good hands.

Then he started down the steps toward me and I could hardly drag air in through my air filter. When he stopped beside me and reached for the door handle, my electrical system almost short circuited. _Mine_, I thought, deliriously happy. I did my best to shine as brightly as I could and I made sure that the enticing smell of leather and "new car" was as potent as possible when he opened the door. I wanted him to be as swept away by me as I was by him.

As the door opened, I got my first real look at him and I almost choked with anticipation. Such strong looking hands, and they were about to touch me in the most sensitive places I could imagine. I held my breath until he had settled himself into the driver's seat and inserted the key into my ignition. The sensation of his body against mine was indescribable and I trembled slightly as I did his bidding and started at the turning of the key. Then I heard the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard since leaving the Hummer factory. I heard his voice.

"It's nice. I like it."

That voice was a combination of velvet and smooth whiskey. I literally purred. But that was nothing compared to the next thrill I received.

He touched me.

His hands settled onto the steering wheel, and I felt pure pleasure run through my transmission. They were strong hands with a firm touch, but there was an unmistakable gentleness under the strength. He reached for the gearshift and put me into reverse then, intending to take me for a short test drive. At that moment, if he had demanded I carry him to the moon and back I would have gladly done so, even though that kind of use is not indicated in my owner's manual.

It's been eight years, and odd as it sounds, as much as is machinely possible, I fell in love with Lieutenant Horatio Caine. I'd like to think that over the years he's driven me, he developed an affection for me as well. Like I said before, we've been through a lot together.

I remember the time he was chasing a suspect and finally located him in the park down by the marina. Horatio was in so determined to keep the suspect from kidnapping his own son to harvest a kidney, that he didn't even leave the protection of my driver seat, he merely lowered the passenger window, slewed me to the right and fired through the open window, killing the man on the spot. My ears rang for a week after that, and I blew GSR from my air vents for a nearly as long. Then there was the time that he drove me into an old condemned hotel down by the beach. The explosive charges had already been set, but he was determined to save the poor, wretched banker who'd been robbed after that freak tsunami hit Miami. He finally found the man and literally threw him into my backseat. He treated me roughly that time, stomping on my accelerator, demanding speed so fiercely that my undercarriage hit the concrete drive beneath us and I saw stars. I knew we were in big trouble, so I gave him everything I could and it still almost wasn't enough to get us out of that mess. The building began to explode behind us as we drove and I literally feared for our lives. I trusted him, but it didn't look good for us until the last second when we shot out of the building, into the blinding Miami sunlight and came to a shuddering stop on the warm sand of the beach. I remember his laughter afterward. It was weak and nervous and grateful. No one saw it, but he reached and stroked one hand over my fender and smiled. It was enough of a thank you.

One more thing I will share with you before it's time for me to go on duty. He's recently started seeing someone, and she spends a lot of time with him now. I have to admit I'm insanely jealous, but I know it was never really possible for him to love me like I loved him. I am a car, and he is a man, but still… She is beautiful, and she does love him, I can tell. She works with him and is the most sought after ballistics expert in the entire state.

Maybe someday she'll ask me about him. Oh the stories I'll tell her. Smile.

**A/N **Not sure why Athena produced this one, but it was fun to write. She has a mind of her own sometimes. Hope you enjoyed.

H


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